Vengeance
by sstacker92
Summary: House suffers some breakthrough pain. House/Wilson- strong friendship. Oneshot set in season six.


Disclaimer: Don't own and never will.

Author's Note: I never really bought that House didn't need the narcotics, at least to some extent. So I wrote what I thought it would be like when the generic meds didn't fill in the hole in his leg. House may be a little OOC. Reviews would be awesome.

()()()

Pain greeted him with a vengeance. God, he hated waking up these days. The pain was all he could think about. Eyes squeezed shut tightly; he blindly reached for the offending limb. He violently massaged the thigh, trying to ease the spasm. He only succeeded on triggering another one. He bit back a scream, an anguished moan coming out between clenched, liquor-stained teeth instead.

Massages were out of the question. If anything touched that cursed muscle now, he'd be rendered unconscious, unacceptable given that it was a work day. Cuddy wouldn't believe him if he called in sick, anyway. He broke into a sweat. The muscle wouldn't quit. The pain extended down the whole length of his leg. Despite his attempts to control himself, another moan slipped through dry, cracked lips.

He needed help, and fast. He flung his hand in the general direction of the bedside table knocking the meager bottle of prescription- strength Tylenol off of it. Now what was he supposed to do? Forget it; those amateur pills barely took the edge off anyway. That moment, the angry limb squeezed, unforgiving in its grip. He screamed, and barely managed to turn on his side before depositing his dinner over the edge of the bed.

Now drifting on the edge of unconsciousness and in extreme agony, House barely registered the sound of the bedroom door opening. "House?" called a worried voice. Wilson. He sounded far away.

House was vaguely aware of a hand on his back and a stream of comforting nonsense entering his ear. Unconsciousness was dangerously near and Wilson's voice became nonexistent. Everything was hidden behind a wall of gut wrenching pain. As his whole leg cramped and waves of pain comparable to electric shock (he should know) ravaged his body, he wished for unconsciousness, for the bliss of feeling nothing.

The hand moved from his back for a while and House blacked out for a few peaceful minutes. Then he was yanked from his tiny nirvana when a spasm pried its way through the wall of peace. House shot up into a sitting position, eyes widening as he realized the horrible error his instincts had made in this situation. He collapsed onto his back and screamed again.

The hand was on his back again in the next second. A needle slid into his skin and House slipped into a dreamless sleep.

()()()

When House woke a few hours later he was elated. He felt no pain. He felt a goofy smile spread across his face. He figured he was on something strong, morphine maybe. Then his happiness turned to anger as a realization hit him. Crap.

"Wilson!" he yelled.

Wilson appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. "What's up?" he asked.

"What did you give me?" House growled.

Confusion flashed across Wilson's face before he answered, "Morphine. I thought you'd be glad to have a few hours without pain. Why are you-"

"Exactly," House interjected, "a _few hours_ without pain. Now I get to go back to hell with a fresh reminder of how I felt when I was on narcotics. Thank you so much, Wilson, for that little teaser of how my life could be," he yelled sarcastically.

"House, I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't think-"

"No you didn't think," he yelled. He let out a shaky breath, holding back tears. Now he wished he was on vicodin. He couldn't control his emotions as well on morphine. Tears spilled out as he continued, "Nobody thought I might actually need the narcotics. You and Nolan with all your psychoanalytical babble. You have no idea how it actually feels. Now, to keep my job, I have to be in pain all the time. Granted, not as much as last night, but still a lot." He paused, surprised at how much feeling fell out of his mouth. He shut down again. "Just leave, Wilson." House stopped fighting the haze of morphine and let the darkness take him again.

"No. I won't leave now. I left you once, I'm not doing it again," Wilson whispered.


End file.
